


Cant talk to tell you to piss off

by pyropinkfish



Category: Dominion (TV)
Genre: M/M, Sick Fic, Unfinished
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-11
Updated: 2014-11-11
Packaged: 2018-02-24 22:48:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2599388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyropinkfish/pseuds/pyropinkfish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alex gets sick and loses his voice, Michael has trouble seeing the downside. </p><p>--</p><p>Unfinished, unbetaed, need help!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cant talk to tell you to piss off

**Author's Note:**

> Please please please finish this for me 
> 
> See I started it after like 283924 reviews requested it for me, so I started it, and then I lost motivation to finish it. But I figured I would post anyway. :/ sorry I didn't edit it.

Worked on "And do you believe you are more 'manly' when ill?" 

\--

Follow up fic! 

\--

It started like any horror movie would. Slow. Unsuspecting except to the audience. A simple sore throat in the morning. Where was the harm? A little watered down coffee from reused beans (because what, did they expect to be treated like V3?) would soothe the ache that made it hurt to swallow. Only it didn't help.

Alex couldn't believe how fast his throat seized up. He was running laps in the sand, under Michael's watchful eye, and suddenly he couldn't breathe. His throat was so raw from sand, unable to gulp anything down, that it choked him into a spurring coughing fit. One that even when he practically upchucked phlegm, he still couldn't get enough air to his lungs. The V2 found himself sitting in the sand, unable to stop coughing while his superior graced down next to him, kneeling on one knee to pat the other's back. 

By the time he finally managed to clear his airway, Alex leaned down, putting his head against his brought up knees, and let out a low groan. The angel in turn cocked his head to the side, mentally checking through all possible scenarios to what it is that just happened. 

The blond turned his head, so that his cheek laid on his dirty knee cap, spreading dust on his face. "Sorry." He didn't make an excuse for himself, mostly due to not having one. Alex learned a valuable lesson in the past as a soldier. There wasn't room for petty physical limitations. If you were out of shape, you work harder. He didn't have the luxury of calling it a day just because his lymph nodes were swollen and god, he felt dizzy...

He quickly turned his head back, shielding it from the light as a wave of nausea crushed down on him. Alex wasn't exactly the healthiest. None of the V2's were. Especially one who shared a good portion of his meals with starving V1 children. He was malnourished, not looking it only due to being musclier. On top of that, the extra strain from Michael's training wasn't doing any favors to his body. 

Both the angel and human were passing off this coughing fit as a symptom of being overworked. 

"Let's go back— we'll come out tomorrow and finish." Michael declared, standing up straight so he loomed over his charge. The human muttered some form of protest, inaudible even to Michael's enhanced hearing. He only knew it to be a protest because that was simply in Alex's nature to fight him tooth and nail every step of the way.

Irritated already, Michael placed his hand on the boy's shoulder and helped ease him into standing. It was then he was able to get a good look at him. He was a lot paler, hard to notice with the sun kissed cheeks and dust covering his face, but what wasn't covered dirt and red skin, was certainly yellowish in hue. His eyes looked tired, eyelids droopy, he was simply drained of energy with his lips were slightly purple from the close encounter of asphyxiation. 

Michael didn't pity this. If he fussed and mother henned over every little fault in Alex's body, he wouldn't have anything to work with, to mold into a soldier. This was a war and it was the mere fact Alex didn't look to good from the start to begin with that day that he was calling a break. 

"I'm fine. It was a little dust in my lungs. I'm all better." Alex snapped, but almost instantly after he finished his sentence, another spaz of coughing took him by surprise. Michael arched his eyebrow in reply and began to usher them towards the jeep. Such stubbornness he had to work with. Alex always had to prove himself, always keep pushing just to shove it Michael's face that he could do it when he was so called 'doubted.'

"I see no need for continuation tonight." 

"It's not even noon." He protected further, attempting to stop their trek of walking while holding a hand out to steady himself. God, it hurt to speak. His voice was hoarse just from the coughing and the more he spoke, the more it was obvious he wasn't doing to well. 

Michael sighed, finding his insubordination frustrating to the point he rolled his shoulders, springing free those beautiful feathery appendages. Before Alex could screech, they were in the air, flying the rest of the distance to the car parked quite a ways for spacious purposes. It cut the walking by fifteen minutes, getting there in only two. Even if Alex flailed and screamed his voice utterly raw by the time he was dropped at the driver side. (As ill feeling as he might be, Michael hated driving.)

The angel folded his wings away neatly and crawled in the passengers, buckling up with an indifferent expression while Alex wheezed, getting in. It was a twenty minute drive back home, one which they had the clearance to make automatically because of Michael's status. 

By the time they successfully went the back way inside, avoiding all the soldiers that weren't paid to be quiet, the boys parted their ways with the vow that Alex would wake up extra early to make up for the time lost that night. Alex reluctantly agreed, not liking that his only day off wouldn't be spent doing productive training, but instead lolly gagging around. While yeah, that sounded great, it meant that his mornings before work would be also training. So really, tomorrow would suck, today was too empty on a work load. 

Alex thought about going to the soldiers' gym room to make up for the time, but upon arriving to his barracks, a shower and bed sounded so good he couldn't pass it up. 

In which sadly, he slept straight through lunch, dinner, and well into night. The only thing that kept waking him up just long enough to hazily see who was also in the sleeping quarters, was his own, inconsistent coughing patterns. Coughing that started every so often and turning into every minute for minutes on end. 

When four a.m. rolled around, Alex's coughing made his chest ache so bad he would have sworn someone punched him in the ribcage... with a train. His nose itched, his head was pounding from the sound of his own coughing, and his eyes ached from the bad sleep. He none the less pulled himself up to toss a jacket over his sweat shirt and pulled boots on, tucking his draw string pajama pants into the boot. It wasn't exactly the ideal workout outfit, but Alex wasn't properly aware of his surroundings. 

He only knew it would take a good seven minute walk to the tower. In the cold morning. With a bad cough. 

Alex Lannon certainly felt like a Chosen One by the time he finally got inside the elevator that would take him all the way up to the top floor of the impossibly tall building. But by Chosen One, it wasn't to save the world, just to die a painful death at the hands of congestion. 

He didn't understand this. He never got sick. That was the perks of growing up in the streets. You had an immune system of pure gold. How the hell did he get a cold? Further more. How the hell was he going to deal with Michael? Flashbacks to when he took care of the angel when he had the flu hit him, making him smirk. Nothing like watching how pathetic his declared protector was when he slobbering on his shoulder. 

God, that wasn't supposed to be him though! He didn't have the time, money, or privilege to lay sick for a week. 

When the elevator doors opened, Alex stumbled through, covering his mouth to cough. Not surprising, Michael was already awake, dressed, and staring out the window. The angel could hear his coughing from the third floor. It rattled the frame work of the building. That and Alex's being was connected to him as his charge. He could feel how miserable Alex was. 

"Good morning, have you eaten?" The angel murmured, wondering if it would be wise to proceed with their training, or if it was better to call the boy off of his duties for the day. Alex opened his mouth, the air came out for the words he wanted, but the sound did not. Well it did, but it was a high pitched squeak and it cracked so bad that it was better off considered silent. 

Alex was visibly taken back from this, clearly because of the early morning, hadn't tested his voice to find prior that it was gone. Michael in turn stared, bewilderment on his face at the strange noise the blond had made. Then it occurred to him that Alex didn't have a voice. A thought which made a small smirk spread on his lips. A look that Alex instantly hated. "It must be a good morning; for once you can't sass me." 

Alex scowled, whilst making ungodly noises to clear his throat in hopes it would return his vocal cords to normal. Naturally this didn't work, and the attempted speech to tell Michael just where he could shove it failed. 

The burnet hummed, strolling over to the human. He scanned his eyes over him, taking note how Alex carried himself while it was apparent he was in pain. Regarding how he still stood straight, body angled up in a way to make up their obvious height and power difference, but now it looked strained. In fact, Michael's sudden movement caused a dizzy spell and Alex found himself grabbing Michael's sleeve to balance himself. That's when a switch flipped in the angel. What was once amusement turned instantly into concern. 

He guided Alex to his bed, sitting them both on the edge. Once Alex realized Michael was being helpful, he willing cooperated and leaned against the angel. It was like the time the angel had the flu. That had been a fun time for Alex, getting off work with the excuse he had to tend to a sick angel. But with their positions flipped since then, Alex felt groggy and in need for warm tea. 

He started to shuffle around, trying to wordlessly voice this request but to no avail. The minute he was squirming, Michael hovered closer, dotting over him as an instinct to protect overcame.


End file.
